


Therapy

by Sugarmouse



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bottom!Will, Light Bondage, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Riding, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 08:13:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5367986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sugarmouse/pseuds/Sugarmouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For <a href="http://ladyblackadder.tumblr.com/">ladyblackadder</a>'s prompt: "Something involving Will wearing handcuffs (consensually) whilst riding Hannibal? As filthy as you can too"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Therapy

**Author's Note:**

> This nothing but porn. You have been warned.
> 
> A huge thank you to [Salyiha](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Salyiha) for the last minute beta!

They haven’t spoken yet, though perhaps they should. Perhaps they should _discuss_ this like the rational adults they are and yet if there’s one thing that Will doesn’t feel right now, it’s _rational_. This is therapy, not somewhere he wishes to speak and it’s better for them both if they don’t. He doesn’t want his foolish mouth to end this, not yet.

He should tell Hannibal to stop, ask him to slow down and yet he doesn’t want to, he _can’t_ and he needs this, he didn’t know it before but now he knows it more certainly and definitively than he’s ever known anything in his life.

Hannibal feels so solid and warm and big and safe, even as he bites at the skin of Will’s neck and opens his shirt so violently that the buttons break free and fall on the floor. Will knows he’s safe, needs to believe he is as Hannibal bites and squeezes and licks at him, working his way down Will’s torso and stripping his body bare bit by bit.

Will shudders and leans against the wall and he doesn’t move when Hannibal opens his belt and slips the leather free in a single fluid movement. Will presses his hips forward, telling Hannibal with his body what he can’t seem to say with his mouth and Hannibal seems to understand.

The air is cool on all of Will’s exposed flesh and the temperature in Hannibal’s office is not best suited to nudity. Yet Will feels warm, too warm, but with nothing else to strip off and remove. He moans and Hannibal licks along the underside of Will’s achingly hard cock and Will feels like a teenager trying desperately not to come instantaneously.

Hannibal chuckles and seems to be enjoying the sounds he draws from Will’s mouth. Will can’t seem to control his hips, prevent them from bucking forward but Hannibal doesn’t protest, doesn’t make a startled sound of movement, he just sucks Will’s dick into his mouth, down against the back of his throat and Will feels as though the world is losing direction. He’s not sure where up or down is and he wants to take a step, to get away from the overwhelming sensation for just a moment but his feet are tangled in his pants around his ankles and he feels Hannibal grip his hips, holding him upright.

Hannibal stands, fluidly and he straightens his tie casually as though he has not just been fellating his patient in his office. “You’re not getting away so easily, Will,” Hannibal whispers, leaning close and Will closes his eyes, tries to focus his mind and _think_ , for a moment. Will stays still, leaning against the wall and breathing, trying to catch his breath and slow his heart. He hears Hannibal moving in the room and he doesn’t resist when Hannibal draws close and takes his wrist between firm fingers. He hears the snap of the handcuff but he doesn’t speak. He doesn’t fight when Hannibal turns him, takes his other arm and cuffs his other wrist and it’s not too tight but he certainly couldn’t get free if he wanted to.

He opens his eyes to the blankness of the wall and he turns his head enough to see Hannibal standing behind him. Hannibal smiles at him, encouragingly and he plants his hand across the back of Will’s neck and steps in close, using his foot to hold Will’s pants as Will lifts his feet free, stepping out of the pooled cloth. Hannibal then steers him, forcing him to move his feet one in front of the other, unsteady, towards his desk.

Hannibal presses him down and Will feels the press of scattered pencils and papers against his chest. It’s not comfortable but he doesn’t feel as though he’s going to lose his balance and fall any more. He stays still, torso bent over the desk and legs straight and he feels the warm roughness of Hannibal’s fingers as they explore and scratch at his skin.

He feels vulnerable, exposed and perhaps a little frightened but too intrigued, too turned on to grab onto that seed of fear and allow it to grow. He feels Hannibal’s breath against his skin and fingers and tongue, scraping nails against his body. He feels the air against hidden places as Hannibal pulls his cheeks apart and breathes a hot damp breath _there_ and Will holds his breath until he feels Hannibal’s lips and tongue, wet and wonderful and _wrong_.

He gasps at the alternating swipes and stabs of tongue, unable to keep his muscles from twitching. He moves his hips, his cock sliding against the edge of the desk in such an unpleasant way and he groans when he feels Hannibal’s fingers circle his hole and he _needs_ this, more than he might have needed anything ever before.

“Please,” he gasps, his mouth moving without a chance to filter the words from his brain. He rolls his hips back, arching and searching for something more. Hannibal stands and presses a hand down on his body and strokes along his back, firm strokes along each bump of spine. Hannibal steps away moving through the room and Will lies still, panting and waiting, Hannibal’s saliva cooling against intimate skin and making him feel wanting.

“Get up, turn around,” Hannibal orders and the words don’t make sense at first, taking a few moments for Will’s muddled mind to unscramble them. He stands, awkwardly, unable to use his arms to pull himself upright and he turns, leaning his bare ass back against the edge of the desk and feeling the dampness between his buttocks as they press together.

Hannibal sits in his chair, his pants undone and his dick in hand, stroking it. He looks so put together, still fully dressed and yet what he does seems so out of place. He holds up a hand and beckons Will to come close and Will braces his body to move, step closer.

The gap between them is not big but it feels like it takes an eternity to cross. Will takes unsteady steps and Hannibal smiles. He shows Will a bottle of lube and he squirts some more into his hand, sliding his shiny wet fingers along his cock, getting it wet and ready and Will swallows reflexively.

“Do you want this?” asks Hannibal and Will mutely nods. “If you want this, you’ll have to come and take it yourself.” Hannibal drops his hands to his sides and slides down in his chair slightly. His cock stands against his body, his balls hanging over the waistband of his pulled down underwear and there are streaks of lube and precome dripping, ready.

Will steps closer on still shaking legs but each step makes him feel more solid, grounded. His own cock hangs heavy and warm and hard and he swallows as he stands close, between Hannibal’s open legs.

Hannibal makes a performance of placing his hands on the arms of the chair, presenting his body to Will. Will looks down at Hannibal’s cock and then up at his face and he feels his face flush hot but he lifts his leg anyway, moving to straddle Hannibal and press closer.

There’s not much space but he gets himself onto the chair, unsteady and difficult without the use of his hands to balance his body. He feels the sloppy wetness of Hannibal’s lubed up dick against his thigh and he raises his hips up, looking down to figure out how to position this, how to make it work.

“I can’t,” he whispers, shifting his hips and knowing he needs his hands to get Hannibal’s dick inside, to steer it into his body. He licks his lips and looks at Hannibal. “Please.”

“You can beg me better than that Will, if you really want this.” Hannibal smirks at him but Will doesn’t feel angry or frustrated, he wants this desperately and he cants his hips forward and looks at Hannibal pleadingly.

“Please Hannibal,” he says softly and he swallows and smiles in what he hopes is an appeasing way. “Please will you put your dick inside me?”

Hannibal is quiet, watching him with a thoughtful look on his face but he moves his right hand eventually, slipping it around behind Will and lifting his dick up to press against Will’s hole. Will can feel the blunt wet shape against his body and he’s not stretched out but he doesn’t want to stop, doesn’t want to beg any more. He’ll take it as it is and he does, pressing down, rolling his hips back and pushing against the pressure of the head of Hannibal’s cock.

There’s a sudden movement and he feels his thighs go weak as Hannibal makes it through and inside him. There’s discomfort as the first small penetration makes it’s way deeper to his internal sphincter.

He rocks back more, using his thighs to shift up and down, shallowly moving until he can loosen enough to take more. He pants and gasps at the sensation and he presses down further with each attempt, feeling his body accept more, accept as much as he wants to take with each rise and fall of hips.

He looks down at Hannibal’s face and they watch each other, eyes locked as Will rides him, takes him into his body. Will sinking down lower and then he’s pressed tight against Hannibal’s crotch and there’s no more room to move down and he’s bottomed out deep but Will wants even more.

He leans and kisses Hannibal, pressing lips against lips and Hannibal is still as Will kisses him. His tongue and lips respond but he doesn’t touch Will, doesn’t raise his hands and cup Will’s cheek as he is usually wont to do. It’s awkward and Will pulls at the cuffs around his wrists, wishes he could bring his hands around and touch Hannibal, touch _himself_ and bring this towards its’ inevitability.

He moans against Hannibal’s mouth and he feels the lips under his own crook into a smile and he parts enough to breathe and see Hannibal’s eyes crinkle in mirth and Will smiles right back at him. He bucks and moves his hips, struggling to get a rhythm with his thighs burning in pain and his balance difficult to find and keep. He stretches his shoulders back, unable to do much more with his hands and he feels his own erection bob and bounce and rub against Hannibal’s waistcoat and it’s uncomfortable and teasing and not any of the right kind of stimulation that he wants but when he tilts back just so, he can feel the rub _inside_ him and his breath catches in his chest at each new electric zing of sensation from his prostate.

“Hannibal,” he cries out, his mouth forming the word, the name, without having a chance to process it and he’s bucking faster, his legs hurting and aching and prickling with the wakening of nerves and it hurts but all he can think of is coming, of building and releasing and it feels too much to stop.

He feels as though he’s losing his balance, falling backwards and he doesn’t have his arms to catch himself, to stop his fall but he’s coming and shaking and he can feel his body pulsing around the dick in his ass and he closes his eyes.

He’s not sure which way is up and down but he opens his eyes to look at the ceiling and feels Hannibal’s hands on his back, holding him, supporting him as he lifts his head enough to look down at Hannibal, thrusting up into his body swifter and deeper and _more_ and it’s too much too soon but Will is passive, still and floppy as Hannibal uses his body.

Hannibal comes, shuddering deep and pressing himself upwards and holding Will down against his crotch to finish as much inside Will’s body as he possibly can and Will smiles lazily at him, catching his own breath as he watches Hannibal pant with the exertion.

Hannibal slips free and Will lets his head flop back as Hannibal lifts him, moves him. He closes his eyes and feels Hannibal manipulate his body and set him down on the chair. He hears Hannibal moving in the room and pottering and he feels his own flesh cool down, the room suddenly feeling so chilly and his skin prickling up in goosebumps. He shivers and opens his eyes and watches Hannibal fixing his suit, wiping at the spot of lube on his trousers and trying to make himself look presentable but for whose benefit, Will isn’t sure.

He is still, quiet and floppy as he allows Hannibal to move his limbs, unlocking the cuffs and freeing him. He feels Hannibal wiping him off, tidying him up in a way that seems so tender in this moment. He cooperates when Hannibal dresses him and Hannibal fixes the shirt as much as he can, despite the now missing buttons. Will stands and steps into the proffered underwear followed by his pants and he waits for Hannibal to fasten his flies before sitting once more. Hannibal slips his socks on and his shoes, tying Will’s laces for him and when he stands up, he strokes Will’s hair, patting his head with a warm open palm and he smiles down at Will and Will smiles back up at him.

“You were good today,” says Hannibal, voice low, just loud enough for Will to hear, close as they are.

“I’ll see you at our next appointment then?” asks Will, hopeful as always and Hannibal smiles, eyes creasing and he runs his fingers through Will’s hair a few more times.

“Of course Will, until next time.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> You can find me on twitter [@ThisMouse](http://twitter.com/thismouse) and on tumblr @ [sugarmaus](http://sugarmaus.tumblr.com).


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